"After your work last year, I was surprised when I heard that you were not to play to-day. At first I felt afraid that if you were off the nine, it must be that the Weston boys had found some still better material, and I knew if that were true we had a great contract on our hands. It wasn't long though before I was chuckling because you were not in the game, and I can tell you I didn't rejoice very much when I saw you throw off your coat and start for left field. Still, I hope I'm not so small as not to be able to appreciate a good play even when it's made by the other side, and I must say, Hill, that hit of yours was great. It just won the game, and the Weston school ought to erect a monument in your honor; they ought to, honestly."
Shackford's words served to increase the eagerness of the boys who had crowded about Ward, and much as he enjoyed the novel experience he soon began to feel somewhat abashed. He caught sight of Little Pond looking at him with longing eyes from the border of the assembly, and pushing his way toward him, Ward was soon grasping his youthful admirer by the hand.
"O Ward, I'm so glad," said Little Pond eagerly. "Everybody's praising you."
"Are they?" replied Ward, laughing as he spoke. "Well, I'm glad we won the game."
He started to depart from the grounds now, but a crowd of boys still followed him, all eager to honor the senior who had won the day and saved the honor of the school.
And Ward Hill was happy. His heart was exulting over his success, and the praise of his fellows was doubly sweet to him after his long period of trouble. He knew he had done well, and the consciousness that Tim Pickard at last had been compelled to come to him for aid, was perhaps not the least of the sources of his enjoyment.
As the boys came up to the campus and turned the corner by the chapel, Tim and Ripley stood there talking with some of the Burr boys. They could not fail to perceive Ward in the midst of the crowd, but neither Tim nor Ripley gave any signs of recognition.
Ward turned to Jack and laughed aloud, so loudly that both Tim and Ripley heard him, and a flush of anger spread over their faces.
"Tim would rather have lost the game than have had it won in the way it was," said Ward, as he started to leave Jack and go to his own room.
"Oh, well," replied Jack gleefully, "you can't blame Tim for making a wry face over swallowing his dose; but it may do him good, after all."